


Whatever Comes Next

by Aelys_Althea



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Follow up care, Gen, Hospitals, M/M, Medical Conditions, Mentions of medical violence, Neil having an existential crisis, Non-romantic love, Post-Canon, medical references, pain and angst, the foxes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelys_Althea/pseuds/Aelys_Althea
Summary: He shouldn't, didn't want to, but Neil reached for Andrew's hand and gave it a fierce squeeze. "Andrew."There was nothing. Andrew would never be 'nothing' when it came to such an invasion of space. It wasn't normal. Wasn't right. Not circumstances that Neil anticipated or had ever thought to prepare for. Perhaps that was why his mind swung in a direction it never had before.Springing to his feet, Neil fled the room with all the speed his exhausted muscles could conjure. "Abby!"***They had won. The Foxes had pulled all stops, scratched out a miracle, and left the Ravens crushed and broken in their wake.Yet with the good would always come the bad. Neil should never have believed he would escape the dark cloud that had followed him his entire life, no matter how fast or how far he ran.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 24
Kudos: 178
Collections: AFTG Big Bang, AFTG Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: this fic contains mentions of medical conditions, medical procedures, and potentially triggering mentions of the outcomes of such conditions. If you find this sort of thing triggering, please tread cautiously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful mods of the AFTG BB this year. It must have been so much to juggle with the extra measures in place, but I'm so happy to have had the chance to participate. So thank you so much!
> 
> An extra and particular thanks to my wonderful artist, Deya Amaya. You've been an absolute gem to work with and I've absolutely loved it!!! If you'd like to check out Deya's art, you can mosey on over [here](https://andreil-minyasten.tumblr.com/post/630330806550904832/my-aftgbigbang-piece-for-aelys-althea-im) to check it out!

It should have been the start of something new. Something better. The end, because when the season drew to a close there was a certain finality to it, but a beginning too.

It certainly felt like it. Like something exciting.

"Where's my trophy? My trophy!"

"Make way, this is the champion's red carpet!"

"Success! Triumph! Who knew we would -?"

" _I_ knew."

"Oh, fuck off, you did not."

"Who cares? It's called living in the _now_ –"

"That doesn't even make sense!"

Pride and vibrating jubilation ran rampant throughout the hallways of the Foxhole Court. Voices raised, words flung in good-natured criticism and excitement, arms slung over shoulders. The team had never felt bigger, never louder or brighter, and Neil found himself roped into the festivities whether he liked it or not. As it happened, he wasn't wholly averse to it. There was something… perfect about spending such a momentous finale with his Foxes. With his family.

It was almost as though the past twenty-four hours of travel hadn't happened at all. As though stepping into their home stadium rebooted the flagging enthusiasm. As if they hadn't just spent far too long driving after a morning unearthed from hotel beds at the first greyish tint of dawn.

"Dan!" Allison called across the room as they stepped into their lounge. "Dan, toss it this way!"

"I certainly will not," Dan replied, clutching the trophy to her chest. "You'd have me risk the safety of my child? What if you suck at catching and drop it?"

"Child?" Matt asked with a bark of laughter.

"You know it. Forever my child."

"With contribution from the whole team?" Nicky asked with a bubble of his own laughter. "Does that make us all parents?"

"Don't make it weird," Aaron said.

"It was already weird."

"Should we wrap it in bubble wrap?"

"What, before it's been on the shelf for even a day?"

"The shelf," Allison called again, raising a hand to said shelf at her side and swiping a hand along it's polished surface, "awaits your attention."

Another explosion of excitement erupted. Arms flung in the air and then back over shoulders. Laughter and spurts of words, outpourings of pride and glowing joy. Neil didn't think he'd ever seen Dan grin more widely, and Matt had taken to pacing about the room between Allison, Renee, and Neil with jostling hugs before quick releases. Even Kevin allowed himself a smile, the same smile he'd worn for the entirety of the previous evening and in complete denial of everything that had happened. Everything that he didn't even know had happened.

 _Riko is a concern for later,_ Neil thought, shrugging aside the issue that would arise as soon as any of them switched on a television or read the news. A glance towards Wymack in the doorway suggested he hadn't stumbled across that grain of truth yet either.

"Are you actually going to put it down or are you planning to yak amongst yourselves all day?" he asked, folding his arms with a frown and grunt. A frown that didn't quite disguise the smile that quivered at the corners of his lips in a modest shadow of that which beamed from Abby at his side.

"Yes Coach!" Dan said, turning her radiating grin towards him. With a flourishing spin, she trotted towards Allison. She hefted her— _their—_ trophy and positioned it meticulously. Another flourish of her hands was met by a deafening cry of approval.

Neil thought it looked perfect. As if the trophy had been made for their shelf.

Allison flung her arms around Renee. Nicky managed the same around Aaron and for once wasn't deflected. Neil saw Kevin shoot towards and receive a smile from Wymack, watched as Matt snatched Dan up into his arms and spun her around, and shared a glance with Andrew. A glance that was met with an aborted attempt at rolling his eyes as Andrew flopped onto the couch. It was a little dramatic, especially with the hand that rose to his forehead to knead his brow, but Neil doubted anyone else noticed. Even if they had, they likely didn't care.

"A celebratory breakfast!" Allison cried above the ruckus, arms raised alongside her voice in a call to attention. Renee was all but holding her off the ground for how tightly she clung to her. "Dan, the most expensive restaurant within driving distance. It's on me."

"Fuck, I love having rich friends," Nicky all but sobbed.

"Allison, for once I'm not even going to pretend to protest." Dan looped her arms around Matt's waist, beaming up at the trophy over her head with such blatant affection Neil could all but read it written across her forehead. "I think we deserve it."

"And then some," Matt said. "Right, Coach?"

"Get off your goddamn high horses," Wymack grumbled, but his smile broke through as he turned to the doorway. "And you're not taking this one, Reynolds."

There was a pause, a beat of palpable confusion as Neil and every other Fox eyed Wymack on the teetering edge of deflation.

"University funding?" Nicky asked almost hesitantly.

Wymack shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. "Get a move on, you lot," he said, turning from the room. "I'm logged to have the bus back by this evening."

Noise erupted once more, and this time Neil found himself tugged into an embrace by Nicky – no, Matt – before being released with the wave of his teammates flocking towards the door. As they coursed through, he shared a glance with Abby standing alongside, shunted sidelong for cover.

"Come on, you two," she said, tipping her head in the direction of Renee's retreating back as the last of their team disappeared in an echo of raised voices. "I don't think even you'll be able to dodge this one, Andrew. Though I can't imagine why you'd want to."

Ducking her head, she strode out of the room without a backwards glance. Sparing his own over his shoulder for Andrew, Neil made to follow him. Only to pause.

"Are you really not coming?" he asked.

Andrew was still reclined on the couch. His hand was still raised to his head, eyes closed and a frown firmly affixed. As Neil waited, he could almost feel the effort Andrew exerted as he rolled his head sidelong, almost felt the moment he considered not replying at all.

Cracking an eye open, he shot Neil a glance that could have been a glare. "Unlikely," he muttered.

Neil wasn't surprised. Disappointed, perhaps, because this was a win. Their win. It was everything they'd worked so hard for the past year. It was the turning of a page, the beginning of a new chapter when the book by all rights should have been closed.

 _Could_ have been but wasn't. Neil would have to make a note of reminding himself of that every opportunity he got.

Andrew had performed better than ever. Better than all of them. Neil could still see recall save after impossible save, the number of Ravens' shots ticking up and up while the points remained static, the lightning strike of his words as Andrew spoke, as he directed, as he _tried_ and made and _effort._

It had been different. Better. Infinitely more than it had ever been.

Turning, Neil took himself to Andrew's side. As the chatter and laughter of their teammates faded to a distant murmur, he dropped to a crouch alongside the couch. Tilting his head, he met Andrew's squinting gaze.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Obviously," Andrew replied, so quietly it was barely even a murmur.

"Upset?" Neil suggested, just to see Andrew's anticipated eye roll. When he didn't, Neil frowned. "Pissed off?"

Andrew stared at him for a moment longer before letting his eyes close. "No," was all he replied, though he wasn't particularly convincing.

Pursing his lips, Neil considered. Andrew had been all but silent since the end of their game. As festivities erupted, as their team overflowed from enthusiasm into hysterical exhaustion and then just exhaustion, he'd remained in their midst a silent, stoic pillar. Present, but uninvolved. A word exchanged, a reply when Neil had told him and only him what had become of Riko, and then… nothing. Not a single word the previous night nor a whisper on the bus.

Maybe he really was tired. Or upset. Or pissed off. Possibly all three, or possibly simply in need of solitude after the incessant company of the past two days. Neil could understand that. It was a shame, and even the most objectionable of his teammates would complain of his absence, but it wasn't Neil's place to demand. Not in this instance. Not when it didn't truly matter, even if it would have been –

 _Nice, but unnecessary._ Neil cut the thought off before it could properly form. With a nod, he rose to standing once more. _Not necessary._

"We'll be back soon," he said quietly, abruptly aware of the relative hush of the hallways. "Can I bring you anything back?"

Andrew grunted a wordless reply. Even that was barely audible.

"Andrew?"

No reply at all this time, and Neil understood it for the dismissal it was.

Turning, he silently crossed the room. Beyond, someone – it sounded like Dan – loosed a cackle of irrepressible laughter that had him peering down the hallway along the rippling waves of her joy. It was enough to make anyone smile. Neil spared one final glance over his shoulder for Andrew, stretched out on the couch –

And paused.

"Andrew?"

Still no reply. Neil hadn't truly expect any, but something about his silence was off. Something that arose over the course of bare seconds. Something in the lax flop of Andrew's hand over his face, the slouch of his foot propped on the arm of the couch, the slight parting of his lips and similar laxness of his face.

Neil crossed the room in an instant. He reached for Andrew's hand and aborted the attempt a second later, dropping to his knees beside the couch. "Andrew?"

He was pale. Neil had noticed before but now—he was paler than he should have been.

"Andrew, wake up."

It was the kind of pale that wasn't healthy. That bespoke sickness in a way Neil knew only too well. The kind of paleness that called to mind a sagging body, harsh words, and the thick scent of burning gasoline.

He shouldn't, didn't want to, but Neil reached for Andrew's hand and gave it a fierce squeeze. "Andrew."

There was nothing. Andrew would never be 'nothing' when it came to such an invasion of space. It wasn't normal. Wasn't right. Not circumstances that Neil anticipated or had ever thought to prepare for. Perhaps that was why his mind swung in a direction it never had before.

Springing to his feet, Neil fled the room with all the speed his exhausted muscles could conjure. "Abby!"


	2. Chapter 2

Neil paced. He didn't mean to but he couldn't help it. There was nothing else to do, nothing to relieve the deafening buzzing in his ears that seeped into his brain and scrambled sensibility into a discordant mess.

_"_ _An ambulance. David, call an ambulance!"_

_"_ _What's going on?"_

_"_ _My god, is he alright? Did he – has he passed out?"_

_"_ _Everyone out of the way. Out of the room. David?"_

_"_ _Andrew? Is he – is Andrew -?"_

_"_ _David! How long -?"_

Too many voices. Too many lingering in the hallway, distant and passing. Less than had been in the ER but still too many and far too loud. Or perhaps they were only the voices that rung in Neil's head on constant repeat. Asking questions, making demands, yet not in his own words or his own voice but in everyone else's.

Too many questions and none with sufficient answers.

_"_ _We'll need you to provide his details—"_

_"_ _Where is he?"_

_"_ _He's being seen to. He'll be in the care of our team—"_

_"_ _Take me to him."_

_"_ _Sir, I'm afraid that's not possible—"_

_"_ _If you don't, I'll take myself."_

_"_ _That's not possible either. There's nothing you could do besides distract the attention and slow the treatment he desperately needs."_

_"_ _Treatment? But what's_ wrong _with him—?"_

_"_ _Oh my god, Neil? Neil, oh my—do you think…? What do you think-?"_

The lights were too bright. Far too bright, and Neil's head throbbed with each pulse of overhead fluorescence. Far, far too bright, and invasive, and devoid of meaning and answers that his frazzled thoughts demanded without reprieve.

Why did no one answer his questions?

A nurse walked past. Neil knew it was a nurse by the colour of their uniform but noticed nothing else. Someone with heels passed in the opposite direction and Neil noticed even less about them. Turning, he paced two, three, four steps, a dozen, and turned once more.

The floor was so ugly. So goddamn ugly. Why would someone possibly choose such an abhorrent pattern?

_"_ _It's been an hour, ma'am. We just want some answers."_

_"_ _Of course. And I completely understand you're distressed—"_

_"_ _Do you?"_

_"_ _Nicky."_

_"_ _Rest assured we're doing everything we can. I'm sorry I can't offer you further confirmation—"_

_"_ _Are you really sorry?"_

_"_ _Allison, enough."_

_"—_ _but from what little we've worked out from his exam can be really helped by your assistance with the paperwork. Who is next of kin?"_

_"_ _That would be—"_

_"_ _From what you've determined? And what's that?"_

Neil couldn't direct his thoughts. He didn't know where to start with untangling their mess. What even was thinking? How did anyone manage with such an endless, overpouring cacophony between their ears? The sound that rose and fell in waves, providing brief moments of lucidity and resounding awareness before fading once more into the whirlpool of deafening confusion. It was a blur - of sounds, of thoughts, of feelings that Neil made no attempt to sort. Between the cascade of images – Andrew's lax face, Abby's hardened expression, Aaron's wide eyes and Nicky's hands tearing at his hair – there was only one clear, tangible understanding.

_"_ _It looks like a subarachnoid haemorrhage. His CT scan shows signs of a ruptured intracranial aneurysm."_

Turning, Neil paced back along the hallway. His arms folded across his chest and he didn't think it was possible to uncross them ever again. His legs hurt, he thought – no, he _knew_. Still hurt even after… how long? How long had they been waiting in the hospital? How long since the greatest moment of his life had been shattered by the cruel, merciless blow of reality?

Nothing was ever easy. Life never failed to throw curve ball after curve ball of the deadliest kind. Neil should have known that. He should have anticipated it. Maybe he had, in a sense, only… how did one build proper thoughts? It seemed nigh impossible.

The hallway was lined with Foxes that Neil was only detachedly aware of. Dan wedged into the seat at Matt's side. Aaron stationed alongside Nicky, suffering—or perhaps even appreciating—Renee's gentle, one-armed embrace, her hand patting intermittently. In his own seat, his legs a sprawled mess before him, Nicky clutched Abby's hand as she spoke, repeating once more what she'd all but chanted countless times since the doctor had left them.

"It means he's bleeding onto his brain," she said, so quietly that if Neil's ears hadn't been so finely attuned to her voice, if they hadn't surfaced briefly from the incessant buzzing, he would have missed them entirely. "The aneurysm—"

"But what even is that?" Nicky asked for the umpteenth time. "I don't—I mean, I don't even know what that really is."

"It means one of the blood vessels in his brain had a swelling that burst," Abby said, slow and gentle, as coaxing as a handler of a flighty horse. No pandering, which Neil knew another version of himself would have been grateful for. None of that comforting bullshit that Nicky could have benefitted from but just as likely would have hated. "If the interpretation of his scan is accurate—"

"Which is would be," Aaron said, flat and faint. Neil only heard it as he happened to speak the moment that he passed directly before him.

"—which it most likely is," Abby agreed with a slow, deliberate nod, "then they'll have taken him into surgery."

"But—but—" Nicky swallowed loudly, "but what does that _mean?_ "

Neil wished he would shut up. He wished they would all shut up: Nicky with his desperate, repeated questions, Abby with her explanations, and Aaron with his monotonic contributions. Even Dan when she asked him a question as he passed, a question he didn't properly hear, and Matt as he softly called his name.

And Wymack, who apparently didn't have the good sense Matt did to back off in the face of unresponsiveness.

"I'm talking to you, Josten," Wymack said, his hand clasping Neil's arm and jerking him to a stop. Blinking, Neil glanced towards his hand, up to his face, then back down again.

"What?"

Wymack grunted. "Nice to know you can still hear me."

Staring at Wymack's thick fingers, Neil realised he'd missed Wymack's calls for attention. How long had he been asking? Glancing up once more, his gaze flickered briefly to Kevin's over Wymack's shoulder. Kevin was… haunted, maybe. Was that the right word? Neil didn't know.

"What?" he asked again.

Wymack shared a glance with someone over Neil's shoulder that Neil didn't bother to turn towards. "Why don't you head outside for a breather," he said. "Get some air."

"No," he said shortly, and stepped out of Wymack's hold.

Except that Wymack didn't let him. "You need it, kid. We'll be here for a good few hours yet."

"So?"

"At least take a seat for a second."

"I'm fine."

"Neil," Dan said from behind him, and Neil couldn't find the care to turn towards her. The buzzing in his ears was mounting once more.

"It's fine," he repeated. A barely noticeable part of his brain whispered that he shouldn't say that, that he should try harder, answer better, but he couldn't care less. He wasn't sure he knew how to say any other words anymore. "I'm _fine_."

"No, you're not," Aaron said shortly, "so shut the fuck up."

"Aaron," Abby chided.

"Andrew's in surgery," Aaron continued over her. "Don't pretend you don't care."

 _I'm not_ , whispered a silent voice.

"You care as much as anyone else here."

 _I care more,_ that voice hissed.

"So don't pull that bullshit. No one believes you, and you look like a fucking idiot by pretending otherwise."

_"_ _Aaron."_

"You pretend so hard that you don't care. Both of you do." Aaron's shoulders hunched as he pinned Neil with a glare. "You pretend so fucking hard that you convince even yourselves when an idiot could see just by looking at you that you'd burn the world for each other. And now you're pretending it hardly worries you? Like you're okay? _Nothing is okay."_

"Aaron," someone was still saying. Neil didn't know who.

"Why can't you just be fucking human for once? So you've had it bad? You've had it worse? You think this is – that it's nothing? This isn't something you can just deal with—"

_I know._

Aaron still spoke. Someone—or several someones—still tried to quieten him. People still passed in the hall, in their coloured uniforms and their clicking heels, and the lights still throbbed overhead with artificial good humour.

Neil didn't see any of it anymore. He didn't hear any of it either.

 _I know,_ he thought, because he did. He knew Aaron was right. He knew he wasn't really fine, because how could he be? How could it ever be okay, be fine, be anything but disastrous? With an impossible win and the excision of an incessant demon from his life, Neil should have been happier than he'd ever been.

And he had been. Until the world fell apart.

There were trials. There were challenges. There was his father to flee from, his father's men to evade, and the Moriyamas to out-manouerve. There was Riko to outplay, both on the court and off of it, and opponents to run into the dirt. There were teammates who refused to compromise, who dug their heels in and tossed their heads in heartfelt resistance like horses bucking beneath the rein.

People were a force to be confronted. An enemy to be faced. An insurmountable enemy in his father's case, but a tangible, physical force to be outrun. An opponent as real as that on the court, and one that Neil could fight against even if it was to no possible chance of victory. But this?

How was it possible to fight back against one's own body as it split at the seams? Even worse than that, it wasn't Neil's body that needed to be fought against. How was it possible to be fine when Andrew was having his skull split open and his brain drained barely a handful of doors away?

"Shut the fuck up."

Neil didn't realise he'd spoken until Aaron's tirade cut short. Staring but barely seeing the hallway beyond Wymack's shoulder, Neil hadn't the faintest hope of withholding the words that rose like vomit from the back of his throat.

"Don't you dare think you can tell me—"

"Get off your fucking soap box," Neil said, heard himself say, but he barely registered the words as they spilled forth. "So you're upset? Congratulations. What, would you like a medal? Sorry to inform you that they don't give them out for that. What exactly do you hope to accomplish by shouting and getting angry, or accusing me or anyone else of acting in any given way? It's useless. We're all fucking useless."

With a wrenching jerk of his head, Neil shot a glare towards Aaron. "I care," Neil said, "but it doesn't matter. It doesn't make any difference at all."

No one spoke. Not even Aaron, with face flushed and clenched fists trembling at his sides. For a long moment no one moved, nothing disturbing the persistent yet distant clamour of the hospital around and beyond them. The beeping. The calling voices. The sounds and the lights—why was there so much of it? Of all of it?

Slowly, Wymack's hand slipped from Neil's arm. Neil noticed only sparingly. Gaze falling back down to the floor, the ugly, patterned linoleum reflecting the fluorescence almost blindingly, he made a feeble attempt at repacking the wealth of pain, and thoughts, and feelings that had spilled forth. It didn't do any good. His head still felt as chaotically disrupted as a morbid playroom a stampede of cruel children had just abandoned. Without another word, Neil picked up his feet and resumed his walking.

At the end of it all, he was useless, and he didn't know what to do about his redundancy. There was no running. No fighting. In the face of the moments when Andrew needed help the most, Neil could never do anything at all.

Allison left. Dan and Matt too. With a word and a promise to return with food, with coffee enough to wake a horse regardless of how poor the in-house brew was, they disappeared with many a backward glance down the hallway.

Neil barely noticed them leave.

A hush had fallen upon their troupe where hours before there had been such fierce excitement. A hush as tense and desperate as a held breath, and Neil felt it like a finger on the trigger. One twitch in the wrong direction and it would explode, and that trigger lay on the tongue of the doctor performing a surgery almost within arm's reach.

Back against the wall, his knees drawn before him and arms hanging loosely around his shins, Neil stared blankly down the hallway. The doctor would come from there, he knew. Just as the nurse had the two times she'd visited since retrieving the papers of Andrew's medical history. The papers that Nicky, Aaron, and Abby had filled out between them.

Neil had been useless. He hadn't known such pivotal details? It had never been relevant before, but Neil hated that he hadn't known.

The nurse had spoken words he didn't understand. Spoken words of emergency CT and four-vessel angiogram, words of back to back surgeries and vital signs. Abby explained what it meant in murmured tones to Nicky when he'd asked, but it still didn't tell Neil anything.

Why didn't he know anything? Why didn't he understand?

Pain medications. Anticonvulsants. Something called 'endovascular coiling' that left Aaron and Abby nodding sombrely, the lines of their faces equally tense, as the rest of the team exchanged glances and worried their lips with their teeth, wringing hands and patting shoulders.

Neil watched it all with a level of detachedness he couldn't have forced himself into at another time had he actively tried. When the mess in his head settled like dust beneath a downpour, what was left was nothing but barren openness and bare reception. Neil saw, he heard, but it made little change to his status quo. It didn't disrupt his static immobility, didn't manage to smother the one thought that echoed in endless rebounds around his head.

Nicky, stepping outside to call Erik, wasn't back by the time Dan and Matt returned. Dan offered a gentle smile to Renee, who replied in kind with one that Neil considered far less convincing than her usual attempts. He knew Matt glanced his way, took a step towards him, then paused as Abby gave a slight shake of his head.

Neil saw it all, but it didn't really mean anything. Nothing important.

"Would anyone like a coffee?" Dan asked, raising the tray in her hand half-heartedly. "I know it's nearly midnight, but I figured we might not know how long we'll be here for."

"Midnight already?" Abby said with a small smile as she accepted the cup Dan held out to her. Neil didn't think it was very convincing attempt at lightness. "It's always so hard to tell when you're indoors."

Dan and Matt made short work of handing out the boxes of takeout they'd brought with them. At first, it seemed that Abby was the only one to bother accepting the offer, but after a beat of stilted silence Renee murmured her thanks and rose to take her own. Abby coaxed Kevin from his mindless staring, and Katelyn, recently arrived, drew Aaron from his own mindless pacing with an arm around his shoulder.

Neil watched him as he folded himself into the seat at Katelyn's side. His face was pale, eyes dark and heavy as though he'd endured back-to-back sleepless nights, and the thinning of his lips as he stared down at the takeout box in his lap suggested he was as likely to vomit as partake of it.

Neil hated him a little bit for that. Out of all of them with the exception of Abby, Aaron had the best idea of what was going on. He knew at least a little what it meant to have a haemorrhage in the brain – or "he's had a stroke?" as Nicky had stated with a faintly warbling voice – and he would loosely understand the surgical procedure. He might even know the statistics of the outcome, how long it would take, and whether Andrew would come out of the operating room at all.

Yes, Neil hated Aaron just a little bit, but a part of him recognised that detached hatred was most likely a form of detached envy. Aaron knew. He understood. At least he'd been useful.

_I don't understand… Useless…_

"Hey. How're you holding up?"

For a moment, Neil didn't realise Matt was speaking to him. He hadn't even noticed him draw alongside him, taking a seat on the floor and extending his legs with a heavy sigh. It was only when Matt clapped a gentle hand on his shoulder that he jerked out of his reverie.

"Sorry," Matt said. His smile wasn't any more of a smile than Abby's was. Holding out a takeout box, he waved it towards Neil gently. "I don't suppose you're hungry?"

Neil stared down at the box. Hungry? What did that feel like?

"Didn't think so," Matt said with another sigh. Leaning back in his chair, he rested his head on the wall behind them. "I'll hang onto it, but you let me know if you feel up to it. Or if you, you know, need anything,"

Neil stared at him.

"Anything at all," Matt added.

Neil blinked. Slowly, incrementally, he drew his attention back to the hallway the nurse would return down. He'd already all but forgotten Matt's offer and a part of him was horrified at the sheer mindlessness of his cognition, but the bigger part…

The bigger, overwhelming part didn't give a shit. That part stared in silent attention down the length of the hospital hallway to the endless tune of _useless_ and _you can do nothing._

Wymack returned. He reeked of cigarette smoke, the smell somehow persisting even in the cloying sterility of the hospital halls.

Nicky returned. He clutched his phone to his chest, offered a murmured greeting to Dan and Matt, and folded himself into the seat at Abby's side once more to resume his vigil. Just like the rest of them.

By the time Allison too returned, Aaron had restarted his pacing, Renee had tucked herself almost entirely into Dan's side, and Wymack had disappeared outside twice more to the chime of his phone and the return of the reinforced smell of cigarette smoke. Neil watched it all, observing but barely perceiving what held no real significance, until –

He shot to his feet. He was down the hallway, meeting the nurse halfway at her approach before any of the rest of the Foxes noticed her. The nurse jerked to a halt as Neil stopped before her. He scanned her face, the gentle lines and gentle sympathy. When she smiled it was a small thing, but it was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

The room was unremarkable. The kind of unremarkable as Neil knew hospital rooms to be that was foreign and impersonal. A beige colour pallet with pale blankets. A rail of curtains tucked back neatly alongside the bed. The bed itself in semi-recline, flat pillows doing a disservice to the nature of their function.

The machine alongside the bed beeped in a consistent rhythm that might have been calming had it represented anything else.

"From our assessment," the doctor said to the room, "we determined Mr. Minyard suffered from an aneurysmal subarachnoid haemorrhage. This particular brain injury – this particular type of stroke – can be very dangerous, both because of how fast it progresses and because of the damage it can cause. It was definitely a benefit that he was able to receive treatment so quickly."

Neil barely heard her. Not over the sound of the beeping, so quiet yet so loud.

There were cords and cables. Lines hanging from the machine. Little squiggles in an established rhythm on the screen, a wave in constant rise and fall, that was as deceptively soothing as the beeps. A number with a percentage that flipped from ninety-six to ninety-seven as Neil watched.

"It was necessary that we acted immediately," the doctor continued. "At the moment this looks to have established a very positive outlook of Mr. Minyard. It's a little early to speculate definitively, and he'll need to remain under close observation for some time, but…"

The doctor's voice was calm and composed, practical and efficient. In other circumstances, Neil might have appreciated her no-nonsense attitude. That she didn't babble and waste time with empty platitudes and assurances. But then? Now?

Neil had eyes and headspace for only one thing.

"How long should it take for him to wake up?" someone asked.

"It varies from person to person. Typically the anaesthesia wears off within an hour or two, but it's entirely dependent on the patient. In this case, because of the impact upon the brain? It's hard to say but potentially within the day."

"What about his post-op?" someone else asked.

"Monitoring. Pain medication. He's down to start on a medication called Nimidopine, which is –"

"Should he be on that? Abby?"

"It's a necessary precaution in most cases to avoid cerebral vasospasm. For Mr. Minyard's benefit –"

"Abby?"

"It's fine, Aaron. It will be fine."

"But if he's put back on medication –"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Neil heard the conversation as though through water. Barely within the room at all, he felt as though he stood on the teetering edge of the fishbowl of words and understanding that surrounded the doctor, that rolled over Abby and Aaron and extended to encompass Nicky too. He hadn't expected to be let into the room immediately – hadn't expected otherwise either, but still – yet a part of him was grateful for it.

Mostly, though, he could only stare at Andrew.

There was something jarring about seeing him unconscious. Unconscious but not asleep. The permanent shadows under his eyes, fixtures for as long as Neil had known him, looked darker than they should. His body, lax and heavy, offered far too little resistance to the act of simply lying, so atypical of him. Most jarring, however, was the bandage plastered on the side of his head. The tube across his face. The device clamped to his finger, the IV extended from the crook of his elbow.

Neil's stomach twisted at the very sight of it. It was unnatural, spoke a story of disaster that could have been far worse, and was made even more profound by the fact that, were Andrew awake, he would hate it. Sorely hate it.

"… give it some time and we shall see," the doctor was saying. "We'll be monitoring him, keeping an eye on his progress. He'll receive the best care this hospital can offer."

"But will he be alright?" Nicky asked, voice strained. "Will he have, you know… lasting damage?"

Neil's stomach lurched.

"It's hard to say at this point," the doctor said.

"When will you know?"

"When he wakes. When he's given time to gather his bearings so we can gauge what, if any, degree of damage there is."

"And the risks? What's the worst that can happen?"

"It would perhaps be best to wait until Mr. Minyard is awake to discuss further. It doesn't help anyone to speculate upon the worst possible outcome."

The conversation descended into murmurs that Neil didn't listen to. He didn't care about what they said anymore. Risks, poor prognoses, permanent damage – he didn't want to hear it. Staring at Andrew, there was only one thing that really mattered.

 _Wake up,_ Neil silently demanded. Not a plea, because he would never plea with Andrew, even in his own head. _I'm useless, I can't do anything, so you have to do it all yourself. Wake up, Andrew._

Neil barely noticed when the doctor left. He was detachedly aware when someone left the room, when another person passed silently alongside him to stick their head through the doorway and murmur something to the rest of the team waiting outside, but Neil didn't attend to it. It was only when Nicky shuffled into his field of vision, leaning over the railing of the bed at Andrew's side, that he was shaken from his staring enough to properly notice him.

"Fuck." Nicky's voice was hushed, as though reluctant to shatter the beeping quietude. "This is so fucked up."

Aaron drew along the opposite side of the bed and Neil could have struck him for blocking his line of sight. His arms, folded across his chest, settled for clutching his elbows with taloned fingers.

"He'll be alright," Aaron said. "He has to be."

"Right," Nicky said. He made a weak attempt at a smile that would have been more effective had he not tried at all. "Of course. This is Andrew we're talking about. If anyone could pull through the impossible it's him."

"That's not," Aaron began, then cut himself off with a muffled, "hm."

Abby – Neil realised it must have been Abby before – passed by him once more as she stepped back into the room. Observing without really seeing, Neil watched as she skirted the bed to Nicky's side and offered quiet consolation. He watched as she offered a similarly consoling word to Aaron, then as they made short work of rearranging the chairs in the room.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked as Nicky and Aaron took their respective seats. "Another coffee? Something to eat?"

"Thanks, but I'm good," Nicky said as Aaron shook his head.

"You're sure? We don't know how long it'll be."

"We're fine," Nicky said. Aaron didn't bother to reply this time.

A few more words, a few more shoulders patted as though in commiseration of surviving the ultimate evil with warrior-like perseverance. Neil noticed detachedly and distantly, from his periphery as he focused instead upon Andrew, but a definitive part of him hated it. He hated it with a dull, smouldering burn. How easy it was to feel pain, to console and comfort, when the subject of such a need was passed out and unresponsive. How easy it was to forget the cruel words and disregard, that even by his team and family Andrew was considered a monster. That he was still the last in the line of priorities. Too easy to fall into sombre attention, bedside manner, and compassionate words.

Neil hated it. His Foxes were the most – no, the _only_ people of importance in the world, but he found he hated them all at that moment.

"Neil?"

Blinking back to awareness, Neil glanced sidelong at Abby. She'd paused at his side on her way from the room, a small, thin smile upon her lips. When he didn't reply, she reached a gentle hand for him but paused before she touched his shoulder. Her fingers curled upon themselves as she lowered it once more.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Neil heard the question. He knew what the words meant. But, just as only Wymack's grasp had hauled him from the muddy waters of his thoughts, it took a moment to climb back into awareness and comprehension.

Why was she asking him that? What kind of a question was that in the first place? Neil wasn't the one in bed, lying lax and unconscious and laden beneath tubes and monitors and -

"No," Neil said. The effort of utterance was nearly insurmountable.

Abby's smile thinned a little more. "I'll ask one of the nurses if I can't find you a chair."

"It's fine."

"Neil. If you're going to stick around here, you're not going to be stuck standing in the corner. I'm finding you a chair."

Without another word, Abby left. Neil returned to his staring.

It was silent in the room. Silent but for the regular beeps, the ticks and quiet huffs of the machines. Eerily quiet, but not so much that Neil could hear the sound of breathing Andrew's breathing. The low, smooth inhalations that should mirror the slow, smooth rise and fall of Andrew's chest. Staring at him, Neil was reminded all too starkly of only hours before when there had been no breath at all.

It was the worst thing. The worst possible thing. Neil hadn't known what to do and he still didn't rightly know.

After a time, Nicky began to speak. Quietly, a murmur that barely interrupted the clinical tranquillity of the room, and only to Aaron. Neil was detachedly grateful he didn't attempt to talk to him. It was easier that way. Better. He didn't know if he could speak even if he'd wanted. Even if he'd had anything to say.

The clock ticked.

Abby returned with a chair that Neil didn't take.

The monitors beeped.

A nurse entered the room and retreated after jotting down a handful of notes.

Nicky left to take a phone call and returned shortly after. Aaron left and returned just as quickly with a tray of coffee cups in hand. It took more ticking, more beeping, and a long time before Neil realised he'd left a cup on the chair Neil hadn't taken.

Ticking.

Beeping.

The nurse in and out. In and out again.

Time passed without notice.

Throughout that time, Neil couldn't have said if it was hours, days, or minutes that passed. It was only when Nicky rose from his seat and closed the blinds that he even realised the sun had risen.

"He's not awake yet?"

Dan. Neil glanced sidelong at the doorway only long enough to see Dan planted within it. She appeared strangely discomforted for one usually so confident, shifting her weight from foot to foot and her finger tapping on the frame. She met Neil's gaze only for a second before his own was drawn back to the bed.

"Not yet," Nicky said after a long pause.

"Isn't he…?"

"Supposed to be?" Aaron finished for Dan. At Dan's neutral hum he shrugged with a nonchalance his bedside attendance denied. "Not necessarily. It changes case by case."

Neil could have punched him. Case by case? As if Andrew was just another patient? Gripping his elbows, he resolutely didn't look towards him. Maybe Aaron was just being clinically detached on purpose. Maybe that was what he did to manage, to convince himself he had a comfortable grasp upon the situation. Like that Nicky took a phone call every other hour, or that Abby seemed to feel obligated to provide as many creature comforts as she feasibly could. Like that the rest of the team, Wymack included, had dutifully kept their distance.

They had no love for Andrew. Not really, or at least not of the kind they shared for each other. Neil knew it, understood it, even if he could never condone it. The team had grown closer but Andrew… he was still always on the outer foot. Always lingering on the borders as though only one step from ducking away entirely. Neil didn't expect the rest of the team to feel particularly overwrough by what had happened. Not really.

Except that Dan's expression bespoke otherwise. The way her gaze had flickered from Neil to Andrew was more than he'd expected. More concerned than he'd expected. Dan wasn't cruel, and she would always care for her teammates even if she didn't care for them beyond the limits of the court. Except that now there was something more.

Maybe Neil should have anticipated it. Dan was far more than first impressions and hearsay suggested.

"We were going to head off for the night," Dan said. "We'll be back this afternoon."

"You don't have to come back to wait around," Aaron muttered.

"We'll be back this afternoon," Dan repeated with emphasis. "Is there anything you'd like us to bring for you? A change of clothes, a phone charger…? Something better than cafeteria food, maybe?"

Nicky's laugh was a croaking shadow of his usual attempt. "That'd be great. Thanks."

"No problem." Dan paused for a moment, but Neil didn't glance her way to discern why. Not until she asked a quiet, "Neil?"

"I'm fine," Neil said mechanically before he could help himself.

Dan nodded hesitantly, slowly. "Right," she said quietly. "We're just a call away though. Let me know if you can think of anything before tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Dan," Nicky said again.

She left.

The nurse returned. Took her observations. Left.

The machines beeped with flat monotony.

Nicky left and returned with food that he and Aaron picked at with crinkles of paper and unfavourable mutters. Neil didn't realise Nicky had placed a wrapped bag onto his chair in place of the removed coffee cup until the smell of their breakfast had long since dissipated from the room.

The blanket of quiet that seemed to pervade the hospital with nightfall slowly retreated into distant bustle. Hours ticking by, Nicky's phone calls taken, and Aaron tapping away on his own phone in reply to occasional texts that interrupted the dullness of waiting with their low burring alerts. Eventually even they stopped, but it was a long time after than before Neil realised it was likely more because Aaron and Nicky both had fallen into varying degrees of fitful sleep.

Blinking through eyes that had long ago started to sting, Neil spared each of them a glance. Aaron was hunched upon himself, his phone clutched to his chest like a lifeline and a frown heavy on his face. Nicky was less bundled but still wore a frown, his head rocked back on the chair and neck cocked at an angle that would likely pain him the next morning. For a moment, Neil considered taking the seat that Abby had brought for him, if only to relieve the strain in his legs that he hadn't noticed until that moment.

Until he flicked a glance back to Andrew.

There was no sound but a slight hitch in beeping. No other indications of change. But slowly, in heavy twitches, Neil watched as Andrew peeled his eyes open to narrow slits. It was a poor mimic of his usual flat glare.

He struggled for a moment. He blinked. His finger twitched in the grasp of the oximeter clamped on the end. Then, with a grunt so quiet it was barely audible at all, he drew his gaze sidelong and met Neil's.

Neil hadn't realised his legs had finally given up for the day until he hit the floor. Staring up at Andrew's bed, unable to break the line of his gaze, he slumped back against the wall. A knee drawn to his chest, Neil released what felt like the first breath he'd taken all day.

"Hey," he said. It was so quiet it was barely a word at all.

Andrew didn't reply, but that was fine. It was okay. Neil had never needed him to speak anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

It took three more days before Andrew spoke, but that wasn't unexpected. Not with his medical status and not with the person he was and always had been. It wasn't surprising in the least what he led with.

"I'm leaving."

The room was empty but for the two of them. For once, the first time in days, all of Nicky, Aaron, and Abby had vacated the space. Andrew's vitals were steady, and he was awake more than he was asleep which was apparently a good thing. It was enough to smooth the wrinkles from Nicky's brow and deflate the tension from Aaron's shoulders for the first time in days.

Neil revelled in that emptiness. His teammates came and went in waves, and though they weren't a nuisance there was a certain ease that he could only attain in Andrew's sole company. There was only so many times his teammates could reprimand him for 'being inside all day' and suggest he 'take even just a few minutes break' before it began to wear on him.

The hype had died. The apprehension had eased. Renee had finally released the cross of her necklace for what seemed to be the first time in days, and Wymack seemed to have managed to go for more than an hour without ducking outside for a smoke. Abby's smile was far less strained that it had been and more than once Neil had heard laughter outside the door.

It was better. Less strained. Reassuring, perhaps, in the face of the situation, but even so, the absence of the increasingly rowdy team was a momentary blessing. A blessing that enabled the return of Andrew's speech.

Cross-legged on the end of Andrew's bed, Neil lifted his gaze from staring at the crinkled linen sheets between them. He met Andrew's flat stare and gave a shrug. "Okay. Can you actually walk out of here yourself?"

Andrew grunted. "You say that like there's a possibility I won't be able to."

His words—they were spoken slower, more deliberately, than they usually were. Neil had been told to expect it, to expect changes, but it was still unnerving. More than it should have been. Plucking at a loose thread in the bedsheet, he tucked his crossed legs a little more tightly beneath him.

"The doctor said walking might be hard," he said, though he couldn't have said why. Andrew already knew that.

"I'm aware of that," Andrew replied.

"She said it'll take time to get back to normal, if you can at all."

"You're speaking unnecessarily."

With a particularly hard pluck of the thread, Neil snapped it loose from the sheet. "She said you might not ever regain your mobility again."

Andrew didn't reply this time and Neil knew why. Whenever the doctor's words arose in his own mind, he was provided a memorable re-enactment of each and every reply that had risen to meet it.

"What? As in ever?"

"How long would it take if he could get it all back?"

"Will anything else be affected? Anything besides, you know, walking and stuff?"

"So he has to take medication… and stop everything else? Fuck. Sucks for you, Andrew. You'll have to give Wymack the rest of your cigarettes."

"What will this mean for his future? Will he be able to continue his career?"

To his credit, Kevin had waited longer than Neil had expected to ask after Andrew's game. If anything, Neil had expected him to ask earlier than he had. With Nicky's internet searches, Abby's careful preparations, and the eventual confirmation of the doctor of possible outcomes, he'd shown more restraint than Neil had previously thought him capable of.

Riko's death probably had something to do with it. Kevin had nearly passed out when he'd been told. He hadn't fully regained his colour in days—not that Neil cared. He'd barely looked at him in days either.

Andrew was the concern. Not Riko, for Riko was gone and forever more irrelevant. Andrew's future was a very real concern, and one that could have very real and lasting implications for Andrew's life. Would he be able to walk again? To run again? To play on the court at all, let alone to the level that until barely days before he'd been capable of? On the surface, to the team, to the media stories that Neil had heard Allison mention had sunk their teeth into the situation, it was of paramount importance.

It probably should have been to Neil too. Exy was everything. It had been Neil's everything for as long as he could remember. Surviving his father, manoeuvring around the Moriyamas – it had all been a necessary, life-threatening, but it hadn't been what he lived for.

Except that, in the face of Andrew bedbound and rendered mute by the damage to his brain, it all seemed somehow… less. Less important. Less pivotal.

Andrew hadn't spoken for three days whole days. Three days of silence that wasn't uncharacteristic of him but became a problem when the doctor claimed that speech was one area in particularly that could be significantly affected by a ruptured aneurysm, particularly in the location Andrew had been afflicted. He disproved that only to Neil and only then.

Neil didn't have an excuse for his silence, but he'd found himself nearly as mute for those days. It was a state he'd never been in before himself, was unexpectedly unshakeable, and he couldn't… he didn't…

"You know I know this," Andrew said. He enunciated with slowness and precision but with more than enough comprehensibility to allay the doctor's fears. Enough that the knot in Neil's belly that had been growing increasingly tight for the past three days eased a little. "Don't take me for an idiot."

"I don't think you're an idiot," Neil said quietly.

"Damaged goods, then."

Neil shot Andrew a glare. "No," he said shortly.

Reclined in his bed, hands rested limply in his lap and eyes heavy lidded, there was nothing about Andrew that suggested he was on the better side of a significant operation for an acute cerebral haemorrhage. Nothing but the patch of a bandage on the side of his head that was decidedly ignored by anyone that stepped into the room unless to check it with clinical objectivity. He stared Neil down with the hooded consideration he always had.

It was normal. Almost too normal. The kind of normal that hurt as much as it soothed.

"So you want to leave," Neil said, lowering his gaze back down to his plucking fingers. "Okay. Fine. We'll leave. If you have trouble walking, then that's fine too. We'll work around it. Go to the gym, do those exercises the OT talked about, keep up with Abby and go to the doctor when you need to. That will be fine. It'll all be fine."

"Stop talking," Andrew said. "I said I already know this.

 _You did. And fuck it's good that you did. That you spoke. That you_ can _speak._ "No." Neil straightened a little. "I'm not reminding you. I'm just saying it out loud."

"Why?"

"Why?" Neil shot Andrew a frown. "So you know that I know it too."

Andrew blinked slowly. The silent _"so?"_ was as loud as if he'd spoken it. Neil answered accordingly.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything, but I'm going to help you. Even if you don't want the help, I'll offer it when you need it."

"I don't need it," Andrew said.

Neil scoffed. "This isn't the kind of thing you can just power through with sheer willpower. It doesn't work like that."

"Hypocrite."

"Don't drag me into this. We're talking about you."

With more casualness than he had in days, Andrew shrugged. "Just because it's not the typical route to recovery doesn't mean it's not a route at all."

"Why walk the path less travelled?"

Andrew made a flat sound. "How unlike you, to suggest the easier path."

Neil mimicked his shrug. His shoulders stayed just a little hunched and he couldn't bring himself to shake them loose. "I think in this instance the easier route would be better. Faster."

"A faster recovery." Andrew's huff wasn't truly amused. "Is this reminiscent of Kevin's thought process?"

Neil raised his gaze. He met and held Andrew's once more. Andrew had always been a challenging read. For his whole life, Neil had been able to read the thoughts and suspicions of others; he'd needed to in order to survive. But Andrew was a deeper study. Far less legible.

Except that, with his words, Neil didn't think he was too difficult to understand. "I don't care about exy." At Andrew's snort, he clarified. "I mean that when it comes to this, I don't care. You getting better—that's more important."

At Andrew's snort once more, Neil pressed his lips together and deliberately retracted his hands from where they'd been steadily pulling the bedsheet apart. With a nudge of a knuckle against Andrew's foot, a silent notification of intention, he clambered up the bed to Andrew's side. Andrew watched him without comment, without making room for him, but he didn't tell him to stop either. It was as good an indication as Neil needed for the moment.

Propped at his side, Neil held Andrew's gaze unblinkingly. "You're not damaged goods," he said.

Andrew only blinked slowly in reply.

"Andrew, you're not."

"I never expressly claimed I was."

Neil frowned. Not in so many words, no. But the sentiment had been loud and clear enough. Dropping his gaze down to Andrew's hand, he extended his own in silent query long enough for Andrew to turn it palm-side up. Reaching for his fingers, Neil gave then a firm squeeze.

"Exy is important," he said slowly. "You can deny it all you like but it is."

"To you," Andrew said.

Neil ignored him. "I want you back on the court as soon as you're able. There's a future there, Andrew. Something to live for. Something to work towards. We had that. _Have_ that. But—"

But there were risks. There were possibilities. The doctor had said it, and with Andrew's awakening, Neil had been present enough to hear it. To make sense of it. He'd heard what they'd said—that it was difficult to tell but there might be long term damage. That he would have to make changes, big changes, in order to preserve his health and get back on his feet. Smoking? Not a chance in hell. Drinking? Cutting back would be an understatement. Stress and severe physical exertion? For now at least, such were as damaging as the smoking and alcohol would be.

"It will take work," the doctor had said, the same words spoken in the visit from the OT, the physio, the social worker that had barely stayed for long enough to be assured that she wasn't wanted or needed at the time. "It would be wonderful to think after a quick stitch and a patch of bandage everything can go back to normal. That's unfortunately not how it works."

Andrew wasn't above effort. Neil had seen it of him. He fought harder than anyone else for what was his, for what he had chosen to protect. Even on the court, in their last game—had it really only been days before? Andrew had fought just as hard, _harder_ , than anyone else. He'd just never fought for himself.

Neil was useless. He'd been unable to do anything to help Andrew but call for Abby's help to replace his own incompetence. He'd been incapable of anything but standing, staring, and waiting for Andrew to fight for himself. Except that now was different. Now, even if Andrew didn't want it, Neil had an open doorway to step through.

"I don't care about the game," he said. He squeezed Andrew's fingers so hard they shook slightly – or maybe that was only his own. He couldn't rightly tell. "Not now. That's not what's important."

Andrew regarded him silently for a moment. The skepticism that radiated from him was palpable, but he didn't remove his hand from Neil's hold. "You're a terrible liar," he finally said.

 _I'm not lying,_ Neil almost said. _For once, I'm not lying_. He knew he didn't need to say it. Just as he didn't need to say a whole monologue of truths that would just as likely never see the light of day. Those kinds of truths weren't the sort that he exchanged with Andrew. They'd never needed them. Would never need them.

Instead, he met Andrew's gaze unwaveringly. "Am I damaged goods to you?" he asked. "After everything that's happened?" At Andrew's silence, he shook his head. "Then neither are you. Even if you never pick up a racquet again."

Andrew's scoff was muted, and Neil could see he didn't believe him. Not wholly, or perhaps not yet. But as Neil leaned towards him in silent query, Andrew met him halfway. Three days and Neil had somehow forgotten just how necessary Andrew's kisses had become.

* * *

Their voices were loud. So unnecessarily loud and persistent.

"Is it too early? It feels like it's too early."

"It's been weeks."

"I know but… but don't you think….?"

Neil glanced up. He met Andrew's gaze and cocked his head in silent inquiry. Andrew's lips pursed.

"I mean, I haven't… we haven't even seen him walk. Do you really think he—?"

That was Nicky. Always questioning, always gnawing over every sliver of information, good or bad, like a dog worrying at the feeble remains of a bone. Neil would have preferred less of his worrying, knew Andrew didn't care for it either, but he didn't call him out for it. He didn't raise his voice for the murmured yet too loud discussion only a doorway away.

"Just because he hasn't done it doesn't mean he can't. I doubt he'd do it in front of us, even if the OT asked him to."

That was Aaron. Aaron, who had taken over most if not all communication with Andrew's doctor as though he had the right to. Not that Andrew protested; he rarely spoke to the doctor but for monosyllabic replies. Besides, Aaron knew Andrew better than he thought he did. The quirk of Andrew's lips at Aaron's words was confirmation enough.

"Yeah, but shouldn't we check?"

"If he's not capable of it, the doctor wouldn't have discharged—"

"Yeah, but shouldn't we _check_? Do you think we should ask him directly? He wouldn't bite my head off if I said it right, would he?"

Andrew snorted. It was so quiet that Neil wouldn't have heard it were he not sitting directly beside him. At Neil's raised eyebrow, he shook his head.

"Don't," Andrew said.

"I can be the one to tell them if you'd like," Neil said quietly.

"Do you really think demanding they silence their gossip-mongering will last for longer than a fraction of a second?"

Neil shrugged. Andrew had a point. Nicky had barely been able to suppress his whispers and open concerns since the doctor had voiced them in terms far too clinical for Neil to bother attempting to properly unravel. Nicky wasn't alone in his questions, either; the rest of the Foxes didn't seem to realise that the hallway carried sound into Andrew's room quite as well as it did.

Aaron and Nicky continued to talk, but Neil ignored them. Andrew did too; Neil could see it in his face as he frowned just slightly, an incremental tightening of his brow and further downturn of his lips, that he'd shut them out. The way his fingers curled on the edge of the bed, his loosely hanging legs twitching just barely.

Neil didn't speak. Not when Andrew took a barely perceivable breath, nor when he pushed himself from the edge of the bed.

There was a moment of wavering disorientation. A brief sway backwards and forwards that Neil wouldn't have noticed had he not kept an eye keenly attentive for it. But he'd seen it before as Nicky hadn't. Andrew didn't declare him allowed to see, but in the past days as he'd pushed himself from his bed for the first time, the second time, for each time subsequently, Neil had been there.

The hesitation didn't last long. Andrew wasn't steady on his feet, but he'd grown less wavering. With another barely perceivable breath, he took a step away from the bed. Another step, and another, and then he paused as Nicky's voice seeped into the room once more.

"I know—Aaron, I know you said the doctor thought he was doing okay but… What if he doesn't get better? What if he can't do it?"

Andrew didn't care what they said of him. Neil knew he didn't. He didn't care that Nicky worried and worried, gnawing and chewing, and didn't seem to realise that gnawing grated. He didn't care that Aaron grasped the reins Andrew's doctor gave him like they were a lifeline, or that Kevin fussed and muttered, distracted only from his concerns of Andrew's future career by the news headlines that still rolled in of a death in the Moriyama family.

Andrew didn't care about what others thought of him. Not in this instance. Nonetheless, Neil saw the ominous implications of the possibility Nicky presented stab him like a series of keenly thrown darts.

Neil was on his feet in an instant. A brush of his fingers along the back of Andrew's knuckles drew Andrew's attention from the door. His gaze, as flat and hooded as ever, gave nothing away. At least not to the casual passer-by.

Even so, when Neil offered it to him, he grasped Neil's fingers in a hold far tighter than he needed to overcome any lingering unsteadiness. Neil followed in step as he passed through the door to leave the hospital behind him. Voices fell silent and eyes turned their way, but Neil didn't see them. All that mattered was the man beside him striding with what could almost seem confident steps and the hand in his own was held fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know it's a little (or a lot) open-ended but I kind of like it that way.  
> I hope you enjoyed what feels almost like a ficlet. If you have a few seconds please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts!!!


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